Wandering Alone
by Coltres
Summary: Jeydon Stark would die for his family. Jeydon Stark would throw a war for his family. Jeydon Stark would kill for his family. He was the third born, he didn't want to be the heir, nor to be in the Kingsguard. He just wanted his family to be safe


Prologue

He was what most of the female population of Westeros would think handsome, beautiful. And for a fact, he was beautiful indeed.

Jeydon Stark was the perfect mix one could hope from the elopement of a Tully and the house Warden of the North. His auburn hair were long and soft, like silk, the kind of hair a woman would die just to have it. Shame such beautiful hair were Jeydon's and Jeydon's only. He usually gathered them in a chignon-like style.

His face wasn't the one you expected from a ten-and-three boy. His expression was hard and serious, just like his father, and his eyes were of a gorgeous shade of grey, with a bit of green encircling the pupil, and some shade of hazel here and there. Not just his eyes were beautiful, his face and lineaments in the complex were the one both men and women would just stop anything they were doing and stare at him, the first with mostly envy, or also with admiration and love-struck, like had happened before, the latter just only with admiration and giggling to themselves.

Jeydon however both loved and loathed his scene. He would never trade his appearance, but it wasn't fit for what he wanted to be; he didn't want to be easily recognisable or be in the spotlight for his beauty. He wanted to go unnoticed.

Jeydon sighed, kind of depressed, watching from the sidelines as two of his brothers sparred against each other. He scratched his nose, and then, absent-mindedly, traced the outline of the freckles his nose and cheeks were adorned of. His mood was due to the fact he didn't want to live in Winterfell anymore. He wanted to go away, like his father threatened him to do sometimes, when he spoke of what he wanted to make out of his life, or like Jeydon himself would threaten his mother when she ill-treated is half-brother, or just brother, like the Starks, minus her older sister Sansa, preferred to call him.

Jeydon stopped watching his brothers sparring and looked up, his eyes founding his father, the Warden of the North, leaning against the railing of the tower, watching his sons fighting, the man's eyes bright with pride for both.

The young Stark wanted to leave the North capital. Not because he hated his family, not at all. He loved his family. He adored his father, he thought of him as his hero, his source of inspiration. The warden of the North was probably the most honorable person in all Seven Kingdoms, and in Jeydon's eyes, that was just the most noble praise and quality a man would be addressed with. Honor just didn't suit Jeydon, or at least what he wanted to be.

His eyes then wandered on his mother, who was beside her husband. She also was watching the spar of his siblings, but her expression was switching from love and pride for his son, to loathe and coldness for her husband's bastard.

Jeydon hated that his mother could feel such bad feelings for his brother, and the auburn Stark couldn't quite grasp why the former lady Tully blamed Jon for her husband past infidelity; it could have just been a moment of temptation and moreover, his parents were just married and father didn't love her yet. Why reverse her frustration and sadness over the bastard, he couldn't understand. Even though Jeydon loathed this things of her mother, he respected her. He admired her love for all her children, not counting Jon of course because he wasn't hers. and her determination.

His eyes went again on the fight in front of him.

He loved his oldest brother, Robb. He was fierce, rush, a bit cocky. It was kind of expected, and of course not required, from the heir of Winterfell, at least the cockiness, which the oldest Stark used to hide his insecurities and fear. He was the eldest and the heir of Eddard Stark, in Robb's mind he couldn't be afraid of anything or be unsecure, the Stark was convinced it would badly show on his father, even though he was just ten-and-five. This reflected on his fighting style, as it was just as rushed and fierce as he was.

 _And cocky_ Jeydon noted as Robb now was taunting his opponent, who happened to be the heir's slightly younger half-brother, the infamous bastard of Winterfell and nonetheless Jeydon's beloved brother. Jon Snow.

His relationship with the black-haired boy was the same as of that with his legitimate oldest brother, even though Snow and Robb were the opposite of each other. Jon was calm, collected and he actually thought before acting.

Jeydon gaze then fell over the other part of the field, over his older sister and three younger siblings. He would die for his family, and he would also kill for. _That's the problem_ the Stark thought. And indeed it was a problem, in his father eyes. Jeydon was a master in deception. He wasn't that good in jousting or with a sword, but give him a bow or a dagger, and he would make the Kingslayer pale for how good and skilled he was. He wanted to be an assassin, he proved more satisfaction at following his prey and kill him in the shadows than risking his own life in a battlefield. And this wasn't honourable enough for his father.

He remembered when he overheard two peasants talking about trying to kidnap his youngest brother Rickon four moons before, to make the Starks pay for the boy's freedom. Jeydon sneaked out of the castle in the middle of the night and slit their throat, after finding the both of them drunk out of their minds just outside a brothel. When he told his father, the latter was absolutely furious and that was Jeydon's first time to be threatened to be thrown out of the castle.

That was also the day he first visited a brothel. Furthermore that is the day when he first tried wine and the day he lost his innocence to a whore. Moreover it was the day he started to understand his likings better, for that was the day he ended up naked in the same bed with the whore he lost his virginity to, and a man-whore.

"You're spacing out again." Jeydon snapped his head up, realizing he was now staring at the ground below his feet. His eyes focused on the owner of the voice which had brought him out of his thoughts.

He locked his eyes with Robb and shrugged, disinterested. "You know Jey, hearing your voice sometimes wouldn't kill anyone." Jeydon shrugged again.

Another peculiarity of the third true-born Stark was that he didn't speak much, or at all. He would talk only when indispensable. He cared not if his silence would come out as rude. He didn't care at all.

Robb sighed. "Do you want to spar with me or Jon?".

Jeydon shook his head. He then pointed at the door that led to the hot springs. Winterfell was situated atop of hot springs which kept the castle warm even in the worst and coldest winters.

" Ok then, bye little brother" Robb ruffled his brother hair, that day not gathered, only to have his hand swatted by his brother, who, huffing, made his way to the hot springs. Robb chuckled.

* * *

On his way to the hot springs, Jeydon decided to make a diversion to his room, to take his pipe with some tobacco, both shamelessly stolen from his parents bedroom, and a flagon of wine. Now Jeydon was relaxing in the springs, taking a swig from the flagon.

He closed his eyes and started to drift off when a voice startled him. He opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow, picking up his discarded pipe from the ground and inhaling deeply from it, the tobacco being already lit in the pipe. He locked eyes with the source of the boy, that was still his older brother, but this time the other, Jon.

'Father will be mad if he finds out you've 'borrowed' his pipe again" Snow said. Jeydon exhaled and extended the hand in which he held the pipe, offering it to his half-brother. Jon looked at it, then he took his father's stolen goods and breathed in.

"What he doesn't know will not hurt him." The black haired boy was taken aback for a moment at hearing his brother's voice, quickly snapping out of it and laughing softly.

"You're right" Jon retorted, exhaling the smoke from his lungs "I always knew you had some humor in yourself."

Jeydon shrugged and took a swing of wine. "You ok Jey?" The auburn Stark gave his brother a questioning look. "You're paler than usual, and you seem tired." Jeydon was not ok. He was tired and distraught. That night he had another nightmare, like the night before and the one previous again. He couldn't sleep at all, the moment he shut his eyes, he would dream the death of his family. One night he woke up screaming after he saw in his dreams his father head on a spear as he was walking on Winterfell's wall. Another time he woke up after Bran fell from a branch of the Godswood tree in a pond, never emerging. He dreamt of his brother Rickon being chased from something he couldn't pinpoint. In the end, he dreamt at least once about the death of the member of his family. They were only dreams, but they seemed every time so real he loathed the time he had to sleep. In a way, he was glad Jon prevented him to doze of in the springs.

Jeydon shrugged to answer his seemed to rile Jon up. "Don't shrug at me Jeydon, sorry but you look horrible, please y-" "I said I'm fine, leave me alone brother." Jeydon snapped at him. It"s not like he wanted to snap at Jon, but telling him about his nightmare would only lead to two things: teasing or excessive concern and too much person on his case. Maybe both, in the worst possible way. So he decided to keep silent.

Jon was giving him a doubtful look, but in the end he sighed and accepted the answer "Dinner will br served in twenty minutes. I will tell Lady Stark you'll be there in twenty-five at most. Please, don't make me a liar.' With a last concerned look at his brother, Snow made his way out of the springs. Jeydon sighed and leaned back in the springs. He was tired, he slept for really too short time that night. He got up and fetched the things he brought there and went to prepare himself for dinner. He wouldn't make his brother late

* * *

 _"I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King. I come before you to confess my treason in the sight of gods and men. I betrayed the faith of my King and the trust of my friend Robert. I swore to protect and defend his children... but before his blood was cold, I plotted to murder his son... and seize the throne for myself. Let the High Septon and Baelor the Blessed bear witness to what I've said. Joffrey Baratheon... is the one true heir to the Iron Throne... by the grace of all the gods, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm." His father was kneeling, watching the ground as he confessed. Jeydon couldn't believe his eyes, his father the most honorable person in the Seven Kingdoms, was about to be prosecuted for treason. Wait, how did he know that?_

 _"My mother wishes me to let Lord Eddard join the Night's Watch... stripped of all titles and powers, he would serve the realm in permanent exile. And my Lady Sansa has begged mercy for her father. But they have the soft hearts of women... so long as I'm your King treason shall never go unpunished! Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!" With those words the King sentenced his father to death_

"NO!" Jeydon shouted, waking up from his nightmare. His underclothes and night-clothes drenched with sweat. He rubbed his eyes, feeling a sticky sensation on his fingers. He got up and opened his window's shutters. He examined his fingers in the moonlight, finding blood on them. He rubbed his eyes with his other hand, with the same results. He lost blood from his eyes. He then touched under his nose and his fingertips got dirty with blood. He was shocked, terrified. He decided to go clean up, so he wouldn't be questioned about the blood the following day.

"Are they only nightmares?" he whispered to himself.


End file.
